Page 44 of Passing Notes
I threw my hands up, palms facing him. “I make no promises. You poked the bear, Leonard. I’m invested now.”
“Clara, wait! Let’s call another truce.”
“Bye-bye, see you on the street!” I wiggled my fingers over my shoulder as I left.
That was weird. Instead of spying like the creepy little freak I was, I’d made a new plant friend.
I popped out from beneath the bleachers in time to see the band march off the field. I watched as they jogged up into the stands with Mari bringing up the rear.
“They sound really good,” I stopped her.
“Thanks!” Her smile was infectious as we chatted about her students. I steered the conversation toward the topic of Leonard, and I couldn’t help myself. In the spirit of not meddling, I told her where he was hiding out. She stomped off in his direction with a determined look on her face.
Sometimes you had to stir the pot.
I was about to turn toward the parking lot gate and get the heck out of here when I was spotted by Nick’s son.
Avoiding him was impossible, seeing how he was waving at me with two hands and smiling his little heart out.
Damn, his kids were entirely too sweet. “Hey there, Ethan,” I called out. I didn’t have it in me to ignore a kid, no matter how much I wanted to hide from his hot dad.
CHAPTER 14
NICK
I kissed the quarterback under the bleachers. Does that make me popular like you? Or is it one of those tree-falling-in-the-woods scenarios? No one saw it, so did it really happen...? - HB
“Miss Clara, hi!” Ethan waved an arm in the air in greeting before deciding what he wanted for dessert. “Can we have ice cream?” His capacity to fill up on junk food and not vomit was always something to behold. This had to have been his second trip to the concession stand, if not the third. After a dinner of hot dogs and popcorn he was ready for more.
“Absolutely. Anything you want.”
“I can’t believe Mom is letting him eat all that crap,” Sasha chimed in. “You’re gonna barf later, Eath.”
“Hello? Your father here, also letting him get a treat.” I gestured to myself. “I only have a couple minutes before I have to get back to the team.”
“You always let us eat crap.” Sasha shot me a confused look. “Which is awesome ’cause a kid can’t live on healthy stuff alone. Fruit and yogurt are not dessert—that’s insanity. But Ethan is on another level tonight.”
“Hey, now, it’s homecoming. Unless you’re playing in the game, it might be a legal requirement to fill up on junk food while you root for your team. Plus, we all know his stomach is made of steel,” I joked.
“I guess it’s like a special occasion,” she pondered. “Well, all I want is a slushie and some cotton candy to put in it.” She let go of my hand and ran over to Clara who was standing by the edge of the bleachers looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “Hey, Miss Clara.”
“Hey, sweetie.” She greeted Sasha while pretending she didn’t see me. The two of them had bonded over porch décor and plants over the last few weeks while Clara had been busy icing me out.
Polite conversation and friendly avoidance seemed to be all that was left between us now, and I was done with it. I had been determined not to pressure her, but it was backfiring on me; I hardly ever saw her anymore, no matter how many mornings I sat in my truck like a simp waiting for her to come outside for work.
The progress I’d made at Sky Lake was gone, and I had to start over.
“Come sit with us,” Sasha cajoled. “We can make a bet whether Ethan is going to barf after he stuffs himself full of ice cream and whatever else he picks out.”
“I’m fine, Sasha,” he argued from his place in line. “Mom said I’m a growing boy, and I need dessert.”
“Dessert sounds good, y’all,” Clara said, backing away. “But, uh, I was about to go home. I have a headache, probably from all the noise. Maybe next time, okay?”
“Sure, maybe we can all go to the next game together, kids. Say bye to Clara.”
We made it to the head of the line. I let Ethan and Sasha order while I watched Clara from the corner of my eye as she headed under the bleachers instead of toward the parking lot to leave. I quickly walked the kids back to Morgan and shot a text to my assistant coach. I took a page out of Clara’s playbook and told him I had to run to the bathroom and was going to be a bit late coming back. I zipped up my windbreaker to cover up my Green Valley Football shirt, pulled my hat down low, and took off in search of Clara with an odd sense of freedom flowing through my veins.
The feeling that something big was going to happen kept the guilt of ditching the team for a few extra minutes at bay. And while I knew Clara was skittish and I didn’t want to push her, the last few weeks made it obvious that I’d have to at least nudge her a bit if I wanted to get anywhere. If we never talked, nothing would ever change.
